I've Got You
by I'mtheAlphahearmeRoar
Summary: In the final battle with the Alpha pack, you can't always expect everything to go just the way you'd planned. Stiles finds that out the hard way... *Ending now with extra angst*


_**Ok. Um. This is on Ao3 and the people over there said that it made them cry. This involves Euthanasia, so I'm warning all sensitive people to be advised before reading this in case it upsets them too much.**_

_**Other than that, continue on reading if you're game.**_

* * *

It had all happened so fast, in a blink of an eye; too quick for Stiles to even see before it had already happened.

One minute Derek had been fighting Deucalion, claws tightly wrapped around the head Alpha's throat, actually _having _the upper-hand, and the next…

One of the other Alphas (_Aiden_, Stiles remembers) had pounced, out of nowhere. (Probably from the shadows, hidden in the trees; it had been quite dark at the time, actually. But Stiles _clearly _thinks back to how Allison had shot an arrow through the Alpha's chest and into its heart, killing it. Wait… unless that had been _Ethan_. They _were_ fucking twins, after all).

But seriously, it was like… Aiden _wasn't _there, and then he was just _right there_. The Alpha had just _attacked_; he'd grabbed Derek from behind and literally _threw _him into the air. Their Alpha had, of course, landed on his feet (being a werewolf had its perks, one being quick reflexes), but no sooner had Derek's feet touched the ground, Aiden was ripping a clawed hand through his chest.

Stiles had been helping Lydia with keeping Kali bound in a magic bubble (it kinda reminded him of the force fields that the girl from The Incredibles could make) when he'd heard the loud, tortured howl that shattered through the air. Automatically, Stiles had _knew_. That was Derek.

He remembers turning around and seeing the flash of _pure agony _that had crossed over Derek's features when the claws had punctured through flesh, bone and muscle. He remembers running towards their Alpha (_his _Alpha) with no care for Lydia screaming out his name, or anything else for that matter, than getting to Derek. And he _remembers _watching Aiden burn, flames erupting out of his skin and engulfing his whole body, _remembers _hearing those tormented cries of pain that Aiden had let escape before he'd collapsed to the ground, body nothing but a scorched corpse that rotted of ash and fire and death.

Deucalion had not been pleased. He'd tried to rip Stiles' throat out for helping kill yet another one of his pack. Stiles had just snapped his fingers, immobilising the Alpha of any movement, before he'd let Boyd (who'd wanted to get revenge for the death of Erica, his _mate_, for a long time), rip the Alpha's head clear off of his shoulders.

When Boyd's eyes had flashed red and he'd howled high and all-mighty, Stiles had knew that the head of the Alpha pack was well and truly _dead_. He'd heard screaming and turned around just in time to see Scott and Isaac ripping Kali to shreds, Lydia having let down the bubble encasing her in.

Stiles remembers the panic that had coursed through him when he'd been rushing to Derek's side. The Alpha had fallen to the ground after the hit, his blood a steady stream that had been pouring out of his chest and pooling around him; the ground had been soaked with it. Stiles had felt sick to the stomach as he'd lifted Derek's head up to rest on his lap, staring into the Alpha's already fading jade eyes. His skin had been pale, _ghostly_, way worse than when he'd been shot with the wolfsbane bullet, and his breath had been scarcely audible.

Stiles barely remembers the drive, but they'd taken Derek to Deaton's. He _does_ remember Derek's head in his lap the whole way there, though; how he'd stroked his hands through the Alpha's hair, _begged _him to survive, to pull through.

_"C'mon, Derek. You're the **Alpha**. You gotta make it, man. You **can't** die. Alright? You **can't die**."_

_"Derek, **please**_. _You can't_… _you can't** die**. If you die, I'll be devastated; truly and **utterly** fucking devastated. So you gotta pull through, **okay**? You gotta stay alive."_

_"Sourwolf? Yeah, you've got me calling you this now. You **have to **survive. I mean it, buddy. I know you're in agony right now and it sounds like the best idea to just let go, but it's **not**. **Okay**? It's **not**."_

When they'd got to the vet Derek was unconscious and Deaton had ordered them straight in. He'd made Scott ('cause Scott could carry an Alpha, not Stiles) lower Derek onto the table and he'd looked at the wound on the Alpha's abdomen. It wasn't good, and Deaton had stated that almost instantly. It was still bleeding and Derek's skin was layered with sweat, tan skin now ghostly pale.

The Veterinarian/Emissary had said there was no hope. The wound was too fatal; it was from an Alpha so it was meant to take longer to heal, but since the Alpha who'd inflicted the wound was dead it just wouldn't heal at all. Deaton did his best to clean and bandage it up, told them that they could all say their goodbyes before time was up.

So now, here was Stiles. The pack had already said their goodbyes not long ago. Lydia and Allison had cried profusely, Boyd had been stoic and sullen, and Scott and Isaac had looked utterly heartbroken, like their favourite puppy was being put down (which was half-true). Deaton had said that the best way for this, was to put Derek out of his misery. The death would be agonizing if they let it run its course naturally.

"Y'know, I never thought I'd actually be witnessing someone die. In my mind, it's usually the other way around." Stiles choked out a laugh, squeezing Derek's hand. The skin was clammy and pale and when Stiles looked at the contrast between his own skin and the Alpha's, it just made him want to cry.

"I'm the one who manages to get into danger all the time and get hurt, not you. It's… it's just not right, Derek. You're the Alpha; you're _strong_. I'm weak and puny and _completely human_. _I'm _the one who's meant to be lying there, pale and broken and _dying_; _not _you."

Stiles wasn't sure, but he felt a light pressure on his hand. He looked down to see where his and the Alpha's hands were held together, then up to Derek's face.

"Derek? Derek, you awake in there?" He squeezed the Alpha's hand and watched Derek's face for a sign, for _anything_. "Can you hear me? De-"

"Stiles…"

It was barely audible; a hoarse whisper.

"Derek! Hey, hey buddy, can you… can you hear me?" He felt relief burst through him when Derek's eyelids fluttered open.

"Yes, I… I can hear you," Derek says softly, eyelids fluttering closed, and then open again like he was fighting to keep them staying open. "Where… where are the others?"

"They're out back. They… they." Stiles clears his throat so his voice doesn't catch. "They already said their goodbyes."

Derek's silent, and Stiles thinks he's going to start asking questions like "Why did they say their goodbyes?" or "What's going on!?" but he's dazed when the Alpha just lets out a small, soft sigh and murmurs "Okay."

"Okay!?" Stiles is shocked by how loud his voice is, and he steels himself before speaking again in an angry hushed whisper. "What do you mean _okay_? You're going to _die_, Derek!"

"I know that, Stiles," Derek says, and _oh god _his _eyes_, they're so vulnerable, like he's _giving in_, "and it's alright."

Stiles is choked into silence. He can't think of anything to say. Derek is actually _accepting _his own death; he's really _giving in_.

Stiles is about to say something like "Are you _crazy_!?" or "Derek, what the fuck are you _doing_!?" but Deaton walks in with a needle that's filled with green liquid. Stiles feels numb, because that's the needle that is going to _kill Derek_.

"Ah, Derek, you're awake. How are you feeling?" Deaton asks, walking over to stand where Stiles is sitting next to Derek laying on the table.

"Could be better," Derek chuckled, but it comes out all _wrong_ and he starts coughing, chest racking with the tremor of it. Stiles automatically squeezes the Alpha's hand in his grasp, tears stinging in his eyes as he watches Derek's whole body shake with the coughs that sound like they're absolutely _torture_.

When Derek's coughing fit finally subsides, his chest is rising and falling in a harsh rhythm and his skin looks like it is even _paler_. Stiles is _petrified _of what's going to happen next, especially when Deaton looks at the needle in his hand and then at Derek before saying "Derek" in a cautious tone, like what he's going to do soon pains him as well.

Derek looks up at Deaton with tired eyes, and much to Stiles' horror, lifts his head in a weak nod.

"_**NO!**_"

Stiles stands up when he hears the yell, and at first he's looking around the room, trying to find out _who _had said it.

…then he realizes it's _him_.

"Stiles…" Deaton's putting a firm hand on his shoulder and it's now that Stiles _also _realizes that he's shaking, body trembling. He's _scared_. He's… fuck, he's so _scared_.

"Stiles, this has to be done," Deaton says lightly, and when Stiles turns, he sees that the man looks just as bad about doing this as Stiles feels about it happening.

"No, no, _no_, no there has to be another way," he chokes, feeling the first tear slide down the side of his face. "This isn't the only option; it _can't _be! There has to be another way!"

"Stiles… Deaton… Deaton's right."

Stiles feels his whole body freeze up at that fragile voice, and he turns to see Derek staring up at him weakly, features softening. It's the same look Stiles remembers at Scott's betrayal, the same look when the Alpha had accepted that Scott had planned behind his back against Gerard to _save him_.

But there was no saving him now…

… and it was all too hard for Stiles to accept.

"No Derek, he's _not_. There… there _has _to be another way!" He's not giving up. He's not letting _Derek _give up.

Stiles hears Deaton sigh. "Stiles, I know this is hard for you. It's hard for everyone. But, it has to be done; for Derek's sake," he says, and Stiles can understand where he's coming from, he _can_, but he just doesn't fucking _want to_. "Stiles. Stiles, _look at him_. He's going to die, and the nicest thing we can do for him now is to-"

"-to let him die peacefully," he mutters quietly, looking down at the ground with tears welling in his eyes.

"Yes, that's right," Deaton says smoothly, though it sounds like the words were forced out of him with much regret.

Stiles lets out a jagged breath before looking up. He sees Derek, laying there. The Alpha's eyes are still open, but barely. His body looks so _frail _and Stiles just wants to wrap him up in his arms and hug him and never _ever _let him go.

"Okay," he whispers brokenly, clenching his eyes shut as he speaks. "Do it. Just… just make it… make it quick." And then he's walking, walking towards the door that leads out into the waiting room when…

"S-Stiles… please… s-stay… stay with me?"

The voice is there, but it's so small that Stiles only _just _hears it. When he turns around and sees the defeated and frightened look on Derek's face it… it just _breaks _him.

He's across the room and sitting in the chair next to where Derek's laying in under a second.

"Of course," he chokes, tries to smile but just _can't _and ends up letting out a sob instead. "Of course I'll stay."

Derek seems to relax as soon as he's sitting down next to him, and then Stiles sees Deaton pop the lid top off the needle, moving closer. As soon as this happens, Derek's back to looking afraid, eyes wide and fearful. "Stiles… I'm scared," he whispers, voice cracking on the last word. It breaks Stiles' heart.

Stiles automatically moves his hand over to where the Alpha's is laying on the table, taking it in his and squeezing gently. "I've got you, alright? I'm not gonna let go. Okay? I'm not gonna let go," he whispers, voice obstructed with tears.

Derek smiles, it's short and it's soft and it's warm all at the same time and it eats right away at Stiles' insides. "I know. Thank you."

"Alright, Derek, this isn't going to hurt one bit," Deaton says gently, taking Derek's other arm where there's a drip inserted, poising the needle. "You're just going to feel a slight pricking sensation, then it'll be just like falling asleep."

Stiles can't help it when he lets out another sob, this one clogging up all the air in his lungs. He squeezes Derek's hand tightly, never wanting to let go, when Deaton injects the green liquescent into the drip. He watches it travel through the drip, turning the clear fluid in the drip into a diluted green-ish colour. His gaze lands on Derek's face; the Alpha's eyes are still open, but they're fluttering, feebly trying to stay that way.

"S-Stiles… don't… please, don't let go," he murmurs, voice weak and hand that's threaded through Stiles' faintly squeezing, the grip barely there.

"Derek," he croaks, fighting back tears but it's just _not working_. "I'm not letting go, alright? See?" He squeezes the Alpha's hand, and Derek blinks up at him blearily, the life slowly bleeding out of his eyes as they glaze over. "I'm not letting go, Derek. I've got you, buddy. _I've got you_."

As the last drop of green fluid is injected in the drip, Stiles leans down to the Alpha's face and gently brushes a soft kiss to Derek's lips, finds himself whispering _I love you_ in a broken voice. He looks up into Derek's hazy jade eyes, sees the sleepy aknowledgment, and tearfully watches as the last ounce of life flickers out, just before they sluggishly drift shut. He feels the wolf's last breath expel in a short, silent, faltered puff of air against his own lips. He observes the calm, gentle smile that graces Derek's lips, remembers how they'd slowly curled up like that when he'd brushed his lips against the wolf's, and skims his finger over them in a soft touch. The skin's still warm and that fact just… everything inside him instantly _shatters_.


End file.
